


Sincerely, MJ

by MiddleKeyFangirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Crush, F/M, Letters, Nightmares, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 04:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18024452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiddleKeyFangirl/pseuds/MiddleKeyFangirl
Summary: Every day since Peter has gone missing, MJ has written him a letter. She knows he'll never see them. Actually, that's why she writes them. She tells him pretty much anything, and everything, pouring her heart and soul into each word she writes. Peter never gets the letters. Not until after someone else close to Peter discovers them, and finds comfort in knowing Peter had a place in the world other than his alter ego, Spider-man.(This takes place after Infinity War and disregards the events of Endgame and SFFH, but draws inspiration from it)





	1. Letter One

_Dear Peter,_

 

_In science, they say that nothing is truly proven. Merely supported. One can have as much evidence as possible, but that doesn't always make it 100% founded; there could always be a chance it's false. I mention this because I've had this fairly well-founded inkling (I guess here you could call it a hypothesis, if we're still using this metaphor) that you, Peter Parker, are New York's Spider-Man. Or should I say"was"._

 

_Today is day one; the first day of you being missing. As are about half of the kids in the school. Ned's still here._ _He misses you too. Not that I miss you... it's only been a day and we're hardly friends. But I'm still here and you're not, and it doesn't feel right._ _My mom and I were lucky. It seems you weren't. Nobody knows exactly what happened last week, but witnesses reported seeing their loved ones and strangers turn to dust._

 

_My mom came home panicked, shouting at me to put my book down and turn on the news. It was utter chaos._

 

_I'm guessing the news anchor didn't make it; instead of the usual busty blonde, it was a tall, tired-looking man with stubble and a quiver to his voice. Hank Watson or something like that. He had this look of terror in his eyes, and he could hardly keep speaking, the teleprompter probably not functioning without someone there to work it. Reports filed in quickly, reporting nothing new; just reiterating the panic that could be seen through the window behind the man._

 

_"As I'm sure you're all aware, an unusual event has unfolded today. As of les_ _s_ _than an hour ago, hundreds- I'm sorry no- thousands have been reported dead or missing. Witnesses say the victims turned to ash spontaneously. As of the total numbers, no one is sure. But things seemed to have stopped, not a report of a 'sighting' for_ _nearly fifteen minutes, a sad record_ _." He cleared his throat and loosened his tie._

 

_My mom had horror written on her tired face, her mouth covered by one dry, cracked hand. I sat in silence, unsure of what to do. I was frozen; my heart was beating so fast, almost as fast as the lump in my throat was expanding. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think._

 

_Half of the city dead._

 

_Half of the state._

 

_Half of the country._

 

_Half of the world._

 

_I finally could move, my chest tight as I approached the window. It was horrid. A whine escaped my mouth and I turned to my mother, who was equally, if not more, horrified._

 

_The streets were filled with car wrecks, ambulances coming to wheel the survivors away from the hunks of crushed metal. People were huddled together here and there, and while I couldn't see it, I knew they were terrified. Who wouldn't be?_

 

_The president sent an incoming message to every citizen that still remained. School was closed, the government shut down and elections to be held within the week. Until they got a sense of how much was lost and what needed to be fixed._

 

_Today we finally returned to school. Physically, at least. Everyone that's here looks dead; faces pale and eyes sunken from lack of sleep, fingers trembling as they tried to remember their locker combination._

 

_To make it more painful, they did roll call. You weren't there to respond. Anyone who was not present, their families were contacted. By third period your name had a red line slicing through each letter, one of many on the roster._

 

_Ned and I sat alone, whispering so as not to disturb the eerie silence of the cafeteria._

 

_"Peter's not coming back," Ned muttered. I looked at him, terrified. I knew this. But hearing it hurt even more. The lump in my throat (which had been growing all day) felt slightly relieved as I muffled a sob. I wasn't crying for you though. Everything was too much, and I had lost one of my two legitimate friends._

 

_Ned frowned and looked down at his tray; meat and potatoes. He pushed it aside and sighed, looking around the room._

 

_"How long do you think it'll be like this?" I managed to ask._

 

_"Not sure," he said. "You know, I've never... I've never lost anyone before."_

 

_"That's great for you," I mumbled. "The feeling never goes away."_

 

_That was all that we conversed the whole day. Everyone's quiet. Not even the little children I see playing on the playground down 52nd street talk. They just sit on the swing-sets, holding rapidly melting ice-creams their parents bought for them to try and cheer them up. The world's gone silent._

 

_It needs your voice, Peter. You were so courageous, taking on who knows what as Spider-man, and pushing through your parents and uncle's deaths. I'm sure whoever is left of your circle misses you._

 

_And I'm not scared to admit now, that I miss you too._

 

_But only a little bit._

 

_Sincerely, MJ_


	2. Letter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michelle reflects on her world.

_Dear Peter,_

_You haven't missed anything. The teachers haven't assigned anything; all we do in class is learn the material, no tests, no homework. Everyone is trying to be gentle, which is remarkably surprising for the American school system._

_Spider-Man was confirmed missing today. Nothing surprising. Not sure how they really figured that out though, considering everyone is too stunned to even consider committing a crime worth your time._

_Does Ned know that you're Spider-Man? In no way do I mean disrespect, but if you didn't tell him, I'm fairly certain he'd be too oblivious to figure it out. He's smart school wise, but he doesn't seem like the conspiracy theorist type. Not that that's what I'm doing._

_Many other heroes have been reported missing, or confirmed dead by other Avengers (or what's left of them). Iron Man; missing. Falcon; dead. Stephen Strange; missing._

_Even the Winter Soldier was confirmed dead by the Avengers. I wasn't aware they considered him a good guy anymore. Same for Captain America (who seems to have been redeemed of his crimes), who was the one to inform the public of Barnes' death, among many others. But he apparently had fought to save the world with the others, and died fighting._

_Your mentor, Tony Stark is also missing. The Avengers didn't know anything about his whereabouts, apparently no one saw him the day where everything... happened._

_Nobody has said what exactly the Avengers and such were doing in order to 'save the world', and nobody knows what the threat even was. The government is half gone and crazy with people getting sworn in as replacements that they haven't even mentioned Sokovia Accord violations._

_I wonder if you know what happened. Maybe that's how you... I'm not finishing that. I don't want it to be true. Maybe you'll come back._

_I'm not a sentimental person; I'm not sure why this hurts. I try to convince myself it's because so many people died, not just you. But it's not true. You hurt the most. So fuck you, Peter Parker._

_Math team has been disbanded. We figured we'd try again later when the wounds had scabbed over and we could breathe on our own. Right now everyone's a wreck. Even Flash, that little asshole. Is it so bad of me to wish he had gone instead of you? Probably. I've just had so many dark thoughts lately. But I think of you, a little palate cleanser of sunshine and I can cool down for a bit. Gross, I know. This whole situation has fucked with my head._

_I've been going for walks lately. The world is quiet. I walk by your apartment after about thirty minutes. Sometimes I see your Aunt by the window. I don't think she's slept. Her eyes are all sunken in and her hair is wild and hasn't been brushed. Maybe I should visit her. I think she might like that. She might like to talk about you. Don't worry; I'll only spill all of your dirty little secrets. I would. But you're too kind to have anything really scandalous going on. You're practically a fucking teacher's-pet-white boy-role-model-stereotype. But it suits you, I guess. I wouldn't have it any other way, and I doubt Aunt May would either._

_There's talk of aliens going around. And some kids think everyone will come back. I personally doubt it, but it would be something I'd like to happen. I wish you were here. Is that selfish of me? That of all people to get back, I'd want you? I don't even have a valid excuse for that desire. Maybe part of me... never mind._

_My mom returned to work the day after everything happened. At least school gave us a few days. But I guess that's adulthood. And doctors and nurses were needed, with large influxes of psychiatric patients on the verge of ending their lives or falling back into old addictive habits. I don't blame them. It was something you can never unsee or forget. I myself remembered that life was fragile... and that we live on the seventh floor. I'm sorry, that was dark._

_There were of course, other patients in physical danger; internal bleeding, lots of stitches, broken bones, all from crashes or accidents that happened when half the world 'evaporated'.  A couple of kids came back to school on crutches and some in slings._

_Ned managed to make it out fine. He was in a car with his mother when the car in front of them crashed. His mom lived too. Neither one of them was injured, she apparently screamed and slammed on the breaks, careful to pull back from the window while holding Ned with a free arm. They escaped with (maybe) a little bit of whiplash._

_I guess you could explain the entirety of the aftermath as whiplash. No one saw it coming. Everyone was terrified. While the pain wasn't physical for most, it was enough to stop the world and spread chaos. Maybe it's a good thing you're not here. Maybe I want you here. Maybe I'm selfish._

_I'll remember you, Peter Parker._

_Sincerely, MJ_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Captain Marvel was really good and if you disagree you’re wrong.


	3. Letter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ continues to struggle to grasp the scope of the decimation.

_Dear Peter,_

 

_What is the meaning of life? Is this what an existential crisis feels like? My soul feels... hollow and I have no desire to move from my little armchair, even though my bed is less than two feet away. It's a good spot though. Good for writing letters. And sleeping. A good three hours, actually, before waking up at three a.m. to write this pointless letter that you're never going to read. Empty. That's all the world is now. I hate it._

 

_You can see the emptiness in every single person. It shows in different ways. Ned, for one mindlessly tapped at his watch, waiting desperately for the bell to ring. He's not excited. It's just easier to be empty in the comfort of your own home._

 

_Your Aunt May glances longingly out the window sometimes when I walk by your apartment. Her hair is wild and her face is pale. I still need to check up on her._

 

_Even billionaire Tony Stark, who looked nearly dead after returning from who-knows-where, had empty written on his dirt-covered forehead._

 

_He looked into the camera with such pain, one that the world had never seen from him before. They had essentially crowded around him the moment he was spotted walking around Bleecker Street. He wasn't mad, just stared emotionless into the camera. Compared to the normal Tony Stark, this one looked like he had been locked up for weeks with no food, then beat up, and then forced to carry bags of sand across an interstate._

 

_"The Avengers are supposed to protect the world," he said. "But we failed. And we had so many others there, and still we failed. We all lost someone. And that's on us. Infants gone? Us. Government figures? Us. My kid... that's on all of us. We had one job... and we failed. We want to fix it. But few of us are left and the things we're up against are far more powerful. Are we going to try again? Yes. Are we going to fail? Probably. Is it still on us? Absolutely."_

 

_The news was going crazy with this quote. Where had he been? What were they up against? Since when did Tony Stark have a kid? What are they hiding from us? Can we even trust this group of super-humans to protect us, the ones that work with "ex-assassins" and aliens?_

 

_I'm assuming you were roped in with all of this. You didn't deserve that. You're just a kid. You have people that would be hurt if anything happened to you. That are hurt now, after you're gone. They're monsters. They're supposed to save and protect us, and look what happened. Where do we even begin?_

 

_Tony Stark; a self-righteous billionaire, extreme narcissism and buys his way out of punishment for the laws he breaks. Black Widow; double sided dagger, probably not trustworthy. Bruce Banner; unresolved and unrestrained anger issues, would probably be able to crush a child with no remorse. Captain America; basically said 'fuck the rules' and left. Hawkeye; where has he been? Thor; come on man, just because he's hot doesn't mean he should be trusted, considering he's essentially an alien and his brother tried to rule the world. How much should we... how much should I trust them to fix their mistakes. To get everyone back?_

 

_Wish you were here so I could hear your opinion._

 

_Sincerely, MJ_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired. I have like no excuses for not moving this chapter sooner. It was already written I was just to lazy and exhausted to put it here. Sorry about that. Also I'm sorry these chapters are so short. Sorry.


	4. Encounter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ ventures outside, finding a familiar face.

I walked through the empty street, taking in the sun's gentle warmth. As expected, everyone was locked inside their home, their immediate place of retreat after work or school. The outside world lacked people come five o'clock at night.

 

I enjoyed walking, so when my mother asked me to pick up a few things at the convenience down the road, I obliged. I could go by Peter's apartment anyways, see if Aunt May was by the window.

 

I still had neglected to drop in to see if she was okay. Maybe that's why I always end up taking this route. There are definitely other, faster routes I could take. I pulled on the straps of my backpack, which had significantly less inside it than it had a month ago. Just like the world.

 

By the time I was standing in front of the apartment complex, I had only seen three people on the street (not including cars, of course). I looked up, hoping to see May standing by the window, just to be sure she was still alive. She wasn't there. Maybe I should've went in, just to be sure everything was alright. I sighed, and continued walking, the store just a block away now.

 

I didn't really have to wait for the crosswalk light to change by the time I was across the street from the little store. The streets were oddly calm enough nowadays. So was the convenience store.

 

The door rang as I entered, the cashier glancing lazily in my direction. He waved; it was a kid from school, whose name I couldn't remember. I smiled awkwardly and walked into the nearest aisle.

 

From what I could see there was only one other person in the store; a woman, by the looks of it. I bit my lip and trekked onward, grabbing a bottle of Ibuprofen. One item down, two to go. A few more aisles down; crates of water. Two. The final item was at the front by the cashier; today's newspaper. I sighed and exited the aisle.

 

My shoulder collided with another, the bottle of Ibuprofen rolling off the crate and rattling onto the gross, carpeted floor.

 

"Shit," I grunted. "Sorry." I bent down to pick up the bottle, grabbing the container of coffee that the woman had dropped as well. I stood up shakily, the crate heavier than I would've liked, and handed her the cylinder.

 

"Thanks," she smiled gently. She looked so familiar. Fix the hair, get rid of the bags under the eyes...

 

"Ms. Parker?" Her eyes flickered to mine.

 

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

 

"I'm Michelle," I replied, shifting the items in my arms. "I go to school with Peter."

 

"Went," she corrected, her eyes sad. "He mentioned you a few times. Said you were one of the few friends he had, besides Ned, of course. How is he, by the way?"

 

"Ned's fine. He misses Peter of course," I said. She frowned. "I've been meaning to come visit, make sure you were alright. It's what he would've wanted."

 

She smiled and pushed her hair aside. "Thank you. You're very sweet. I'm managing, but thank you. If you'd like, you could come visit for dinner. I promise the apartment looks a lot better than I do now. Cleaning's the only thing I can do to forget..." Her soft smile faded. "You know."

 

I nodded, following her to the cashier. I picked up a newspaper and placed it on the counter.

 

"Let me pay for that," I offered, motioning to the coffee. She shook her head.

 

"That's fine," she said. I turned to the boy, pushing my items towards him.

 

"How's it going MJ?" He asked, scanning the items. I shrugged and took my bag down. "You want a bag?"

 

"I have one, clearly," I said. The bag was empty enough to carry the water (thank God) and the Ibuprofen sat snugly in the side pocket. The newspaper stayed with me, to keep it crisp and unwrinkled. He rolled his eyes, passing me my change. 

 

"Never were a fun one," he muttered.

 

"Well, for the record, we've never been friends," I sassed, shouldering my backpack.

 

"Yeah you're only friends with that fat kid and Penis Parker," he snorted. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw May flinch, her grip tightening on the container. I glared at the kid.

 

"You're an asshole," I said, "that's why we're not friends. Learn how to be kind and come back to me then." As if. I never planned on talking this much with him again. Only talked to him a few times a month anyways. 

 

"Not my fault you're friends with  _losers_ ," he snorted. May sniffled a bit, the kid glancing over and shrugging. My face grew hot as I tried to fight the urge to punch him in the face.

 

"Last time I checked I didn't think I was friends with someone who worked at a dirty convenience store. I was friends with Midtown's brightest and his teammate. Did I miss something?" The boy was getting angry now.

 

"Get out of my fucking store," he growled. May let out a weak sob. That was it. 

 

"Are you so entitled that you can't respect the dead? Did you lose anyone?" His face turned white as I tried to keep my cool. "Oh and that's Michelle to you. MJ's reserved for people who are half-decent."

 

He scanned May's items in silence as I stood and glared at him. May tried to pay as quickly as possible before we hurried out of the store. Not ten feet from the door, May started crying.

 

"Thank you for being there for Peter," she hiccuped. "I'm glad to know he had people." Now I felt guilty.

 

"I- we were hardly close. Just happened to go to the same school and have a knack for math," I sighed. "Ned was his real friend. I was just kind of there."

 

May looked at me, thoroughly confused.

 

"The way he talked about you, though," she said. "It made it seem like you guys were really close. Half the time I thought he had a thing for you."

 

May and I giggled gently as we continued our trek home. 

 

"No," I smiled fakely, suddenly aware of the tears building up in my eyes. "If anything it was Peter's light that attracted friends to him. He was a really good kid; smart, kind, strong."

 

"He was," May wiped her eyes. "I miss him so much."

 

"Yeah," I whispered, "me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new Endgame posters we got today were so good. I was on the kitchen floor looking at them and I kept seeing the same ones over and over again and it still hurt the same.


	5. Letter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ is lost and confused.

_Dear Peter,_

 

_I don't know where exactly you are. Heaven. A coffin. Sinking infinitely into the ocean. Some other dimension. A limbo of sorts._

 

_I wish you were here. I hate it here. You make it bearable. Or you would make it slightly more bearable if you were here._

 

_Ned's lost all his sparkle now that his best friend's gone. Doesn't talk to me unless he has a question or is answering one of mine. He won't hold a conversation for more than thirty seconds._

 

_The only upside is that Flash has finally stopped being an asshole. Everything is much more peaceful when everyone is crying. Eyes to blurred to see anything but pain. Eyes that drip and drip until they fall asleep. Crying yourself to sleep is a new sensation._

 

_I don't cry myself to sleep though. I tell myself I'm too strong. So instead, I wake up at odd hours of the night, sobbing after some absurd, cruel nightmare. The worst was the night after I visited May._

 

_I was sitting in school, everyone missing had returned. You were seated to my left. You held my hand. We talked and listened to each other, and to Ned, and to Betty. Eventually I noticed you weren't talking. I glanced over at you to find your pretty eyes glazed over._

 

_"Peter?" I muttered. Your gaze snapped up to mine. "Are you okay?"_

 

_"Of course!" You smiled, teeth flashing. When you did so, one of your front teeth shot out and clattered to the cafeteria floor. I looked at the bloody tooth, then back at you, to find blood dripping down from your mouth as you spit several teeth out into your hand._

 

_"Your mouth!" I reached towards the table to grab a napkin, and when I turned around, you were gone. Where you sat was a blood-soaked marigold. I reached for the flower, only for it to grow the sharpest of thorns and tear my fingers apart. I turned to look at Ned, asking for help, but he was gone._

 

_The entire cafeteria was empty. And on each seat sat a single marigold. None of them were covered in blood like yours, though. I stood up and backed away, only to trip and end up right back at the cafeteria table. Except now the marigolds were gone. The people were gone. The colors were gone, replaced instead with a horrible, never-ending sheet of white, shapes of tables as far as the eye could see. I closed my eyes._

 

_When I opened them, your face was inches away from mine, eyes bleeding, as if you were crying thick, sticky, red blood. Your mouth was serious; no smile, no frown, no look of agony or anguish._

 

_"Michelle," your voice was a soft whisper as your hands cupped my face. "I wish I could see you again. In person." You leaned forward, your bloody mouth mere centimeters away from my lips. I thought I could smell the copper scent.  
_

 

_I woke up shaking and in a cold sweat. Dried tears only added to the salt building up on my face. I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees, burying my head in my comforter, trying to muffle my ragged breathing. Trying to suffocate myself until I passed out._

_I've never been suicidal, per se, but ever since everyone disappeared I've been feeling so out of it. I want to fall asleep one night and not wake up. Every waking moment feels like some kind of bizarre nightmare and no matter how hard I try I can't wake up._

 

_Everyday is the same thing. Wake up. No appetite for breakfast, skip breakfast. Go to school. Stare off into the distance for seven hours, with a half hour lunch break. Skip Decathlon. Walk home. Don't look both ways before you cross. Get home. No one says hi or hello or asks you how your day was. Go to your room. No homework; teachers don't want to burden us. Lie on bed for two hours listening to sad music (my personal favorite to mope around to right now is "when the party's over" by Billie Eilish) until dinner. Eat three bites of dinner, maybe finish the whole thing depending on how much you ate the night before. Go back to your room. Fall asleep at seven listening to more sad music. Wake up at two in the morning sobbing and shaking. Pass out a half hour later. Repeat. The cycle is like some kind of weird prison void of the real world._

 

_Sometimes I think I can hear people calling my name out, but it's not your voice. It's not the people on the street. It's not my mom. Maybe once or twice it was Ned or the counselor at the school (they have them check in with everyone once a week, which is pointless. I refuse to divulge what I'm actually feeling. That's information reserved for select people.). Honestly, I can't remember. I haven't been sleeping very well lately. No amount of benadryl or melatonin helps. I actually tried Nyquil one night but it wasn't working and I kept drinking more until I was pretty much drunk. I knew it was possible. I also knew I could've killed myself doing that, but honestly I didn't care._

 

_I suppose the right word to describe how everyone is feeling is 'numb'. Too busy feeling pain from the disappearances to realize the harm that their physical bodies are being put through._

 

_The other day during chemistry some kid's beaker shattered and his hand started bleeding from bits of glass that had ripped through his glove. He didn't even notice until the teacher had to shout for paper towels for him. Even then, he didn't seem to care. He needed two stitches. Normally, I'd say that kid is metal, but with the current circumstances, it's not a surprising event._

 

_People have been joining support groups. The high school funded an after school one, free to be attended by any students only. Betty tried to convince me to go to one, and I didn't have the heart to tell her I hadn't really lost anyone, so I went. It wasn't bad. Just... remarkably quiet and chilling. Like some kind of weird Stephen King novel. Needless to say I didn't attend another._

 

 _I'm listening to my playlist right now, thinking of you. There are several songs I love that I think you'd enjoy. If they ever get you a grave, I'll make it a mixtape and put it on the stone. But for now I just think. Listen to the lyrics, see stories. Like I said, it's the same thing for hours, days on end._   _I'm tired of it. Existence is dull and boring._

 

_I almost envy you._

 

_Sincerely, MJ_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really lazy in case you haven't noticed also i'm still not over endgame :)


	6. Letter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ deals with her increasing guilt and confusion, and updates Peter on what's occurred.

_Dear Peter,_

 

_I need to apologize for the way I ended my previous letter. It was insensitive and dark. I felt really guilty about it._

 

_Everybody only wants one thing; the impossible. To get everyone back. But as I didn't really lose anyone, I feel like I can't say that's what I want._

 

_"But Michelle, you haven't lost anything!" Yeah no shit. I'm grateful. But I'm also haunted. Mainly by you. By the half empty halls. The streets without cars._

 

 _I was never one of_ those _girls. The type of girls who stood in front of the mirror and hated what they saw. But I look in the mirror and I see this girl that didn't deserve to lose nobody. She's never done anything of value. Never loved anyone except for her mother. How come she got off so much better than everyone else?_

 

_I try to tell myself it was all luck. Probability. There was nothing I could have done to change it. It doesn't change the fact that everyone's dead. It won't get everyone back._

 

 _I think I had the right idea of not having any friends, the only issue being I couldn't hold on to that. I let people in. I let you in. Saw you peeking through the doors, opened them wide for you and let you read the nooks and crannies of that ugly mind of mine. I didn't open up until after you left. But the fact that these letters will remain unread by your eyes makes me regret writing them at all. It makes me wish I stayed the friendless loser I was. It would've saved me from this feeling._ _I don't know what this feeling is, though. I've never felt it before. But I've never lost someone close to me._

 

_Which brings me to my next point. I was never really super close to you. We were friends, sure, but not close friends. We barely made it past the 'acquaintance mark'. Here lies the opposite end of my little spectrum: regret that I never got closer to you.  
_

 

_Peter, you were pretty much my first high school friend. I want to know what it's like to hang out and go to the movies or something. I wish we had gossiped, or laughed. I wish we had hugged, at least once. I don't even like hugs. Everything just feels so isolated and lonely. It's like being surrounded by a constant cloud of cold, hollow nothing. I want someone to break through that cloud and just touch me. I want someone to hold me in silence so I can focus on the feeling of being with someone, the sound of their heartbeat, their sweet scent, instead of the chaotic and terrifying reality of the outside world. I want to be guided through the messy emotions and pain. Gosh I sound crazy._

 

_You'd be happy to know Tony Stark has been doing well. I mentioned a few letters ago that he'd returned. He's alive and according to the news, fighting to get released from the hospital. Pepper Potts is doing a pretty good job of keeping him in until he's recovered. He was gone for eleven days; came back with a face of stubble and pretty severe dehydration. Not to mention he looked half dead. I don't know if it was physical circumstances or emotional trauma that made him look like he was ten minutes away from dropping dead. There's not much more information, though, Ms. Potts is trying to get him to rest and has been ordering around the media, telling them to leave him alone._

 

_Nobody really knows how he got back. Videos have surfaced showing some weird glowing asteroid-like thing pulling his ship back to Earth. Some rumors on Twitter think he managed to get into the atmosphere and had some kind of malfunction before crashing. Idiots. He would've died on impact. Or his ship would at least be damaged._

 

_I'm hoping this is good news. Tony Stark is a genius; if he can't fix the world, we're doomed. But until then we just have to hope. I doubt it. Something tells me whatever happened is way beyond his extensive payrange; a science so difficult the afamed Tony Stark can't comprehend it. Or maybe it's not science. Maybe it's something mystical. The only thing that counteracts that thought is the look in his eyes. He's seen something. He knows something we don't. Question is: are we ready to hear what he knows, or will that tear us apart even more?_

 

_Everyone is still hurting, but they're slowly trying to share their pain, and stop trying to take it on alone. People have made tributes to fallen loved ones, celebrities and heroes. I've seen quite a few for you. I wish you could see them. If somehow you do come back, I'll have to send them to you. Ok well, actually, I already have. So if you do ever miraculously return, they're waiting for you._

 

_The darkness and silence of it all gives me time to sketch. My art hasn't really gotten 'darker' per se; it was already fairly dark. But the symbolism and pain depicted in each piece has just gotten so much stronger. It almost gives me a purpose. Almost feels right. But most of the time I choose to zone out instead, so I never build up enough satisfaction with myself. I don't care._

_I think I'm going to go visit May again. It's been a few days since I've seen her, but it felt nice to talk to her. Maybe I'll bring her something. I'm not good at baking, though. And art's not exactly a 'conventional' gift. Especially depressing and almost morbid pieces. I don't know._

_School gets out in a week. If you do get back, I have no idea if they'll let you pass. I hope they do. I want you to be there with us, especially when we graduate. It wouldn't feel right if you were missing. But I guess that's how it'll be anyways, right?_

 

_I'm hoping for something that will never be. I don't know why I don't just stop, give up. I want to. But everytime I think about giving up hope, there's this tiny sliver of uncertainty- of light- that makes me change my mind. I'll name the sliver 'Peter', I guess._

 

_Sincerely, MJ_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, this fic completely disregards the plot of Endgame because it hurt my feelings (okay it's actually because I started it before the movie came out).
> 
> ALSO I SAW SFFH TODAY AND THE SPIDEYCHELLE CONTENT TOOK MY UWUS UGH IT WAS SO GOOD
> 
> (also I had to fix this chapter because I made a pretty big error lmao)

**Author's Note:**

> This is being transferred from my Wattpad (I'm trying to switch over). Expect slow updates as I only have three (and one draft) chapters. Thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos appreciated! I usually always respond to comments!


End file.
